


Ineffable

by borkybarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Bad Communication, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Bucky's a bit of a dick, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Jealous Steve Rogers, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pietro Maximoff is a bit of a dick but he's a good dude, Pining, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson is So Done, Sexual Tension, Slow Updates, Steve's a bit of a dick, Tony's in a frat led by rhodey, T’Challa and Bucky are friends in this because why not, honestly everyone's a bit not nice but they're all trying hard!, like I'm not kidding when I say language, steve rogers’ voice: language!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2020-06-03 19:29:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19470619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borkybarnes/pseuds/borkybarnes
Summary: Bucky Barnes can't remember a time where he wasn'thead-over-heelsin love with his best friend. He'd love to just "woman up and tell him", as Natasha said, but that's a little hard with Sharon Carter in the picture, and college life just makes it all the more difficult.





	1. Chapter 1

“I _seriously_ think you’re overreacting,” Natasha told him, tapping her manicured nails on the tabletop. “A B-plus isn’t bad. Did you see what Tony got?”

“No,” Bucky huffed, frowning as he scanned the university’s cafeteria. There were plastic skeletons, black and orange streamers, and paper cutouts of jack-o-lanterns hanging from the ceiling and walls. “But Tony doesn’t exactly set a high bar when it comes to literary analysis. He’s only taking it because he didn’t take an English course freshman year and now it’s biting him in the ass.”

Natasha laughed. “Right. Give the guy an advanced physics problem set and he’ll have it done within five minutes.”

Bucky snorted but didn’t say anything more. Getting a B-plus wasn’t exactly a confidence booster, especially when Thor received a solid A-plus. Bucky wasn’t surprised –— Thor lived and breathed classical literature. Hell, Bucky wouldn’t have been surprised if Thor was Shakespeare in a past life. 

“Uh-oh,” said Natasha softly. 

“‘Uh-oh’,” echoed Bucky. “What does _that_ mean?”

“Just… just don’t turn around…”

Bucky turned around and Natasha threw her hands up, mumbling, “Should’ve listened to me.”

Mr. and Mrs. America, otherwise known as Steve Rogers and Sharon Carter, walked hand in hand through the school cafeteria, towards Natasha and Bucky. Bucky struggled to keep a look of complete and utter disgust when Sharon sat next to him. “Hey!” she greeted cheerfully.

When Bucky didn’t respond, he felt a sharp kick to his shin from under the table (Natasha) and met a stern glare (Steve). Sour, he muttered, “I’ve gotta go. Class.” Without an explanation, he pushed his seat out and left, grabbing his duffle bag and throwing his trash out. He heard Natasha sigh and follow after him.

Tony Stark, who was headed to Steve and Sharon, laughed. “Thumpity, thump, thump — look at Frosty go.” Bucky flipped him off, miffed when Tony laughed again.

Natasha walked next to him, zipping up her coat to ward off the chilly autumn weather. “You have to stop running away from them. Steve’s getting suspicious. You can’t avoid them forever.”

Bucky said, “I’m _sure_ I can figure out how to avoid them for the rest of my life.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and slapped his shoulder. “You don’t mean that. Haven’t you guys been friends for twenty years or something?”

“Stop.” Bucky held a hand up and cracked a grin. “This is making me feel way too old.”

“Whatever,” Natasha said.“You gonna join me at the gym today or sit with a pint of ice cream and watch reruns of _The Office_?”

“Gym,” Bucky replied, flexing his bicep. “Not like I need it, though.”

“Debatable,” Natasha said, steering him in the gym’s direction. They pushed open the doors. “See you at the treadmills.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Bucky walked into the locker rooms, throwing his bag onto a bench. He walked around the room, stretching his arms above his head. “Well, well, well.” Bucky froze at the voice. “Didn’t know you came here, Barnes.”

“Didn’t know they started allowing snakes in here, Maximoff.”

_Pietro–fucking–Maximoff_ , one half of the Sokovian exchange students and the star of the university’s track team. He had a towel around his neck, bleach blond hair wet from a recent shower, and offered Bucky a sly smile. When he saw Bucky’s sneer, Pietro laughed. “Relax, I was just leaving.”

As he passed, he slid the towel from his neck and hit Bucky on the ass. Bucky grunted, and Pietro laughed again, the locker room door swinging behind him.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him as he stalked to the treadmills, teasing, “Well, _somebody’s_ in a bad mood.”

“Shut up. Get running.”

Natasha smacked Bucky’s arm, rolling his eyes. “Are you still crabby about Steve and Sharon? He makes her happy –– isn’t that what matters?”

“ _Really_ don’t want to talk about this.”

“Fine.” Natasha started her machine. As Bucky prepared his, he heard the woman at the front desk.

“Excuse me, sir! Do you have a member––?”

“Bucky.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s arm, ignoring the frantic receptionist. “We need to talk. Now.”

“I’m in the middle of something, Steve. Can’t this wait ‘til later?”

Steve had a fire in his eyes that Bucky was all too familiar with, having seen his best friend try to fend off all kinds of trouble. “ _Now, Bucky_.”

Natasha watched the exchange carefully, turning off her treadmill, poised to intervene at any moment. Bucky stared down Steve, a tactic that never worked on the latter, even when Steve was just a scrawny kid getting beaten in alleyways. “Fine,” he said, allowing the other man to drag him back into the locker room. Once they were inside, Bucky asked, “What do you want?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about, Steve.”

Steve frowned, the expression far too grim for his (handsome) face. “What’s with your dislike for Sharon? She’s been _nothing_ but kind and polite to you, and you’ve been this surly caveman.”

“Caveman, huh? It’s the hair, isn’t it? I need to cut it, right?”

“ _Jesus Christ,_ Bucky, that’s not the point!”

Bucky shrugged, the knot in his stomach tightening. He felt nauseous. “I just… don’t get a good feeling from her?”

“Why? Why don’t you—!”

“I don’t know, Steve!” _Maybe it’s because I’m pretty fucking crazy about you, and I’m not even sure if you’re into guys._ “She just seems…”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to Bucky. He was only the slightest bit taller than him, but in the moment, he might as well have been twelve feet taller than Bucky. “She seems _what_ exactly?”

Bucky shoved the blond away from him. “I don’t know!”

“If you don’t—!” Steve took a shuddering breath, composing himself. “If you don’t know why you don’t like her, then _why are you so mean to her_ ?” Before Bucky could even answer, he said, “You know what? I don’t even care anymore. Just _get your head out of your behind_ and, for the love of God, please be more cordial. I’m not asking you two to be best friends, just be polite.”

As Steve glared at Bucky, Bucky tried to figure out if Steve’s eyes were more blue or green. “Bucky, I swear—! Are you even listening to me?”

“‘Course. I’ll be nicer to Sharon and all that shit,” Bucky replied. 

Steve’s shoulders relaxed, and he patted him on the back. “You know I love you, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get all mushy on me, Mr. America.” Steve rolled his eyes at the name, and they walked out of the locker room. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

“Saturday?” Bucky cocked his head. “The hell’s happening on Saturday?”

“DIK’s Halloween party. The one that Tony’s been reminding everyone about?”

“I usually tune him out, so…”

Steve laughed and said, “Sharon and I are going as Sandy and Danny from—”

“ _Grease_ ,” Bucky finished. “Nice.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll… figure something out.”

“Cool,” Steve said, grinning broadly. (Bucky swore that the smile almost blinded him). “See you on Saturday, Buck.”

As Bucky stepped back onto the treadmill, Natasha not even acknowledging his presence, he came to a conclusion. Steve’s eyes were both blue and green.

*

“Man,” Sam said, crossing his arms. “Why do _I_ have to be the parrot?”

Bucky smirked. “Because you lost at rock-paper-scissors four out of five times.” He stared at himself in the mirror. The pirate costume he’d bought last minute from Party City was actually pretty decent. It was a simple white shirt with the first few laces untied to show off Bucky’s impressive (Sam would disagree) chest, black pants tucked into black boots, a red sash around his waist, and a red and gold coat. Topping it off was the pirate hat (the _tricorne_ , Sam told him), the symbol of a pirate captain. Bucky grinned at himself again. “Plus,” he added, turning to Sam, “I got you out of having to set up for the party.” He tucked his sword in its hilt on the sash.

Sam huffed but didn’t dispute the claim, glaring at his reflection in the unflattering, bright red parrot getup. “I’m _so_ not getting any in this.”

Bucky shrugged and nudged Sam towards the door. “That’s _so_ not my problem, Wilson.” They left the apartment complex, climbing into Sam’s car. As Sam started the engine up, Bucky looked at himself in the rearview mirror. “Dude, can you stop checking yourself out?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, averting his eyes, slightly embarrassed. Sam glanced over at him after they pulled out and he asked, “What’s Nat doing?”

“She has a group costume with Wanda and Pepper. Going as _Charlie’s Angels_.”

“Oh!” Sam nodded. “ _That’s_ why Tony was so whiny about Pepper not doing a couples thing with him. This week at the frat, he was all, ‘Pepper’s betrayed me’ and stuff.”

“So, Tony but slightly more dramatic?”

“You’ve got that right.”

They came up to Greek Row, the street already lined with cars parked so close that it would be hard to get out. The Delta Iota Kappa, or DIK (Tony’s idea; Rhodey was already so fed up with name ideas that he let it stick), house was already throbbing with bass boosted music. Cobwebs lined the porch along with other gory decorations that the frat had decided to put out. As Sam and Bucky got out of the car, Tony yelled, “Lookin’ good, Barnes.” He turned to Sam and said, “Can’t say the same for you, Wilson.”

“Can it, Stark, I lost a game.”

“Try four games,” Bucky said as they entered the house. The minute they stepped inside, Bucky was sure he’d lose his hearing and his temper. The place was filled to the brim with scantily-clad girls and half-dressed guys and other wasted partygoers. People rushed past, knocking into each other without a care in the world.

As he ventured deeper into the belly of the beast, Bucky saw some familiar faces. Clint Barton and Natasha were playing beer pong against Thor and his much less excited brother, Loki, who look ready to throttle the former. He saw Rhodey and Bruce Banner leaning against the wall, making small talk with each other and watching the chaos unfold. He swore he heard Rhodey go: “I’m fine. This is fine.”

“James.” Bucky smiled slightly. There was only one person who called him that.

“T’Challa, how are you?”

T’Challa, an exchange from Wakanda and one of the kindest people Bucky ever met, smiled back. “I’m good, though this party is a little too loud for me.”

“Why’re you here then?”

“Ah.” T’Challa sighed, “Shuri told me to live a little more and stop being an old man so, here I am.”

Bucky laughed and said, “I’m guessing you’re dressed as Gatsby?”

“You’d be correct in that assumption, James. That book was wonderful, thank you for lending it to me.”

“No problem. You can keep it, I have another copy.”

“Thank you.”

“Bucky!” He froze. Steve just arrived. 

T’Challa said, “It seems that Steven calls for you. I’ll take my leave.”

“You look great, Buck!” As promised, Steve arrived as Danny Zuko, dressed in the worn leather jacket Bucky gave him for his eighteenth birthday with his hair slicked back. 

“So do you.” His eyes fell on Sharon, who went as Sandy at the end of the movie. “You do too, Sharon.” Bucky was careful to not clench his teeth.

“Aww, thank you, Buck.” Sharon smiled sweetly, and Bucky almost barfed at her usage of his nickname. Steve was the one person who called him that. Who did she think she was?

“There you are! Man, I’ve been looking all over for you!” Sam appeared by his side, smelling vaguely of peach schnapps. “Hey, Steve.”

“Hey, Sam.” Steve’s grin faltered and his eyes watched Sam carefully. “You’re a… bird?”

“A _parrot_ ,” Bucky corrected, smirking smugly at Sam. “He’s _my_ parrot.”

“Oh” was all Steve said before he offered another smile that looked more like a grimace. But it didn’t make any sense. Steve and Sam were friends. Bucky rubbed his eyes. He must’ve been seeing things.

“It’s like a couples costume,” Sharon said with a laugh. “That’s really cute. Right, Steve?”  


Steve shrugged, visibly tense. “Sure.”

Bucky shifted his weight. The air was suddenly far too thick between the four of them, and it was hard to breathe. “I’m going to get a drink,” he declared, drifting off the kitchen before anyone could stop him. 

On the kitchen island were a variety of alcohols with a sign reading: Choose your booze. Bucky mixed himself a gin and tonic, downing it at an alarming rate. He leaned against the island and sighed, enjoying the fact that he was alone in the room. 

Of course, the universe had to screw him over again.

“Guess I was wrong.” Zombie Pietro Maximoff sauntered up to him, simpering as he approached. 

“About?”

“What you’d like to drink. Always pegged you as a scotch guy? Gin and tonic seems too—how do you say— _sophisticated_ for you.” When Bucky didn’t snap back, Pietro said, “Something’s bothering you, Barnes. You know what always makes me feel better?”

“ _What_?”

“Shots.” Pietro smirked at him, opening a bottle of vodka and pouring it into two shot glasses. He slid one to Bucky. “Here.”

Bucky stared at the clear liquid, contemplating. He knew that he shouldn’t get fucked up, especially since Sam was already buzzed (at the least) and part of the frat, thus having a room at the DIK house. But then he thought about Steve with Sharon hanging off his arm like a lapdog, begging for attention and desperate for the affection that Steve gave away so easily. Bucky looked back at the glass and grabbed it, tipping his head back and letting the vodka burn down his throat. It tasted like nothing. 

Pietro set his empty glass down. “That’s the spirit.”

Bucky reached for the bottle, pouring another shot. “Cheers.” He clinked his glass with Pietro’s and sent the alcohol sliding down his throat again. And again. And again. Everything was a little blurry after the seventh one. Bucky lost count somewhere around number ten. 

“Where’s your room?” he asked. “I need to sit down.”

Pietro held his arm as they tripped up the stairs, both men giggling as they stepped inside. Bucky closed the door behind them and flopped on Pietro’s unmade bed. Pietro laid down next to him, saying, “I had fun with you, Barnes. You’re definitely less of a pain when you’re drunk.” 

“I could say the same about you, Maximoff.” Bucky turned on his side with a chuckle, Pietro doing the same. They gazed at each other for a moment, and Pietro inched a little closer. Bucky did too, and little by little, they moved closer and closer until they were a hair’s breadth away.

“Should—should we…?” Bucky trailed off.

Pietro grinned. “For the love of God, Barnes, _kiss me_!”

Bucky snorted and leaned in. Pietro’s mouth was warm and inviting, and Bucky couldn’t help but push himself against the younger man. Pietro huffed, breaking the kiss and climbing onto Bucky’s lap. With a smirk, he pulled Bucky back in, hands in his hair. Bucky wrapped his arms around Pietro’s waist, drawing him as close as possible. 

It only escalated from that kiss with clothes flying off. Pietro tied a sock around the outer doorknob before locking the door and returning to Bucky, who dragged him into another searing kiss.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to SeetheSea for letting me bounce ideas off of her and giving me the confidence to post this work! Hope you like it!


	2. Chapter 2

_ The sun is too bright. The blankets is too hot. The world is too loud _ . Those were Bucky Barnes’ first three thoughts upon waking up on November first with a pounding headache and an equally hungover Sokovian man beside him. 

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” said Pietro, arm flopping over his eyes in an effort to ward off the sun. “Close the blinds, Barnes.”

“You do it,” Bucky snapped, hauling himself out of bed and searching for his clothes. 

Pietro huffed and sat up slightly to watch him. “You were much nicer last night.”

Bucky ignored him, tossing the pirate coat over his arm and glowering at the locked door. He really wasn’t in the mood to do the famed walk-of-shame through and out of the frat house. He also really didn’t want to run into any of Pietro’s brothers, namely Sam, Tony, and Clint. Rhodey, most likely, wouldn’t say anything.

“You were good, Barnes,” Pietro said, stretching his arms up. 

Bucky paused as he unlocked and opened the door. “Thanks. You were too.”

The track star smiled wolfishly. “I know.” Bucky rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him, creeping down the stairs as quietly as he could. The house was pretty clean for just having had a wild night. He wondered who Rhodey roped into helping tidy up. 

“Well, well, well.” Bucky sighed. Did the universe have something against him? “You’re  _ glowing  _ my friend. Absolutely  _ glowing _ .”

Bucky shot him a look, and Tony’s grin widened. “Not an afternoon person?” When he didn’t get an answer, he continued, “Seems like you have a thing for blondes, Barnes. You know Speedy Gonzales dyes it, right?”

Sending Tony another withering glare, Bucky asked, “Wait, you said  _ afternoon _ ?”

“Yeah. It’s past noon.”

Bucky checked the time on his phone. 1:20 pm. Below the thin white numbers were ten texts, seven from Sam asking where he was. He opened the three from Natasha.

**Nat (11:34): Where are you?**

**Nat (11:51): Steve’s pouting, please help.**

**Nat (1:02): Seriously, Barnes. Come and fix Steve**

There was also a missed call from Steve, but when Bucky checked, there wasn’t a voicemail. He shrugged and called an Uber, leaving the house as Tony shouted, “See you in English Lit on Monday, Frosty!”

Bucky climbed into the car, pretending to not notice the driver’s judgmental stares through the rearview mirror. He texted Natasha back, and she responded almost immediately.

**Me: sorry didn’t see these.**

**Nat: Where were you? I didn’t see you for anyprt of the night**

**Nat: any part***

**Nat: Also, Steve was acting weird. Don’t what that’s about, he wouldn’t tell me.**

**Me: don’t know what to say. Steve might just be moody idk**

**Nat: So where did you disappear off to?**

Bucky hesitated, debating whether to tell Natasha or not. Deciding against it, he tucked his phone away again and stared out the window for the rest of the ride. When they arrived at his apartment complex, Bucky dragged himself up the four flights of stairs and entered his apartment, jumping when he saw Natasha sitting on his couch, flipping through channels. 

“Where were you last night, Barnes?” She didn’t turn around, settling on a rerun of  _ Law and Order: SVU _ . On it, Ice-T as Fin Tutuola spoke: “ _ Looks like the victim had anal contusions _ .”

“Fuck, Nat.” Bucky threw the costume coat on the couch and plopped beside her. “You scared the hell out of me.”

“Good, because I want answers.”

“I shouldn’t have told you where the key was.”

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself—I would’ve found it eventually. Now—,” She lowered the volume. “Where did you run off to last night?”

Bucky sighed and ran a hand down his face. Natasha could sniff out lies like a damn bloodhound. There was no way to avoid it, and Bucky even contemplated hurling himself out the nearest window. He really, really didn’t need Natasha’s judgmental gaze (but he doubted it would be worse than the Uber driver’s). “Hooked up with Pietro.”

Natasha blinked once and said, “Pietro as in  _ Pietro Maximoff _ ?”

“No, Pietro Smith.”

“Fuck off, Barnes. You slept with that jackass?”

“Aren’t you friends with Wanda? I don’t think she’d appreciate you calling him a dick.”   
  
“I didn’t call him that, I said ‘jackass’.” She paused and mumbled something under her breath. Bucky only caught snippets of it: “That’s why” and “Steve”. She shook her head and asked, “How’s the hangover?”

It was as if the pain suddenly remembered it had a job to do, and the splitting headache came rushing back. “Not great.” He winced, and Natasha stood up to get water and painkillers. 

*

“ _ Hey, this is Steve Rogers. I can’t get to the phone right now, so leave a message, and I’ll try to get back to you. _ ” Bucky ended the call. This was the fourth time Steve sent him to voicemail. Bucky hadn’t heard from him since Saturday. It was Tuesday, and they shared Nineteenth Century America together. Steve, who usually found a seat next to him, sat all the way in the front beside Maria Hill and Phil Coulson, who had looked  _ far too pleased  _ to be sitting beside Steve. That guy had some obsession with Steve that made Bucky want to punch him. 

“Are we going to get running or what?” Sam asked, stretching beside Bucky.

“Shouldn’t we wait for—”

“You called him four times, Bucky. He’s not coming.”

Bucky frowned and nodded, stuffing his cell into his pocket. They began at a light jog, and Sam asked, “You know why he’s avoiding you?”

“Not a clue.” Bucky had been going over everything he’d done in the past seventy two hours that would make Steve just cut him out. He’d never done that—even when Bucky tossed his first sketchbook into the mud when Steve wouldn’t play cops and robbers with him when they were nine. His chest constricted every time he thought of the blonde. “It’s better this way,” he told Sam as they began their third lap. “I don’t need to see Sharon hanging off of him like a sad dog.”

“Didn’t you promise you’d be nicer to her?” Bucky hummed in confirmation, and Sam snorted, “You’re not doing a very good job at it, then.”

“Whatever. She’s not here.”

“She’s pretty cool once you get to know her. Apparently, she was valedictorian and captain of the volleyball team in high school.”   
  


“How do you know?”

Sam shrugged. “She told me when she, Steve, and I hung out a few weeks ago.”

Bucky scoffed, “So, what? Now you’re best friends or something?”

Sam scowled. “Dude, you need to stop being petty. Steve’s happy, right? Doesn’t that make you happy?”

_ No _ , Bucky thought,  _ no, it does not. Not if he’s with her.  _ “Yeah.” Bucky relented, running a hand through his caveman (according to Steve) hair. “Do I need to get a haircut.”

Sam stepped in front of and stopped their run, looking at Bucky critically. “No, but you could stand to condition it every once in a while.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and sidestepped Sam, resuming once again, saying, “Eat my dust, snail man.”

“Oh, fuck no, Barnes. Get back here!”

*

Thursday rolled around, and Steve was still pissy.

Natasha dragged Bucky out to the pub down the street where Bruce Banner had a part-time job as a waiter. “Did you take me here to cheer me up—,” Bucky began, watching as the redhead eyed Bruce, “—or was it just to drool over Banner?”

Natasha hummed, “A little bit of both.” She flagged Bruce down. “Two beers and an order of nachos. Extra cheese. Thanks.” She looked at him so fondly that it made Bucky want to puke. Suddenly, he felt bad for everyone who ever had to suffer through him admiring Steve (and his ass). 

“Hey! Pepper, look who it is, Nat and Barnes!” Bucky’s eye twitched. Tony Stark sauntered in and sat down on an empty chair. 

Pepper grabbed Tony’s arm. “They’re in the middle of something, Tony. Come on.”

Tony didn’t budge, sending a sly grin to Bucky. “Heard you and Rogers are having trouble in paradise.”

“Shove it up your ass, Tony, I’m not in the mood.”

Tony’s smile dropped a little, and he became more serious. “Sorry, sorry. But, seriously, what’s going on? Steve looks like someone stole his American flag.”

“Been trying to figure that out myself. Since Halloween, he hasn’t said a word to me.”

Natasha just hummed as Bruce set down the ordered items, sipping her beer as the conversation progressed. Bucky frowned. Usually, Nat would’ve chimed in with some quippy comment or something of the sort.  _ What’s up with her _ ? Bucky figured he’d ask later. 

They wound up letting Tony and Pepper stay, Tony already gorging himself on nachos while venting about some quantum physics concept that Bucky himself couldn’t wrap his head around. Bruce, as he passed their table, gave Tony input while shyly watching Natasha. 

“That guy has to man up,” Bucky said as Bruce left to wipe up spilled guacamole. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Pot. Kettle. Black, Barnes.”

Bucky flipped him off as Pietro Maximoff swaggered up to the table. “Can’t believe I wasn’t invited to this little get together.” Wanda trailed behind him, and Bucky could hear her grumble despite the loud chatter echoing through the bar. 

“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” Wanda told her twin with an exhausted sigh. “Come on, you probably weren’t invited for a reason.”

“No, no, let Speedy sit,” Tony said. Bucky was  _ this  _ close to punching Stark in the nose. “Here, he can have my chair.” 

Pietro took Tony’s spot next to Bucky, leaning closer. “Hey.” Bucky took a deep breath in. Pietro’s breath smelled like mint. 

“Hey, yourself,” Bucky replied, uncharacteristically coy.

“Haven’t seen you since last weekend.” Pietro trailed a finger up Bucky’s arm.

Bucky chuckled. “You missing me, Maximoff?”

Pietro grinned playfully. “Maybe just a little.”

Bucky shuffled closer, whatever Wanda, Pepper, Tony, and Natasha were saying became indistinct noise. “You know,” Pietro began, “every time I climb into bed, I just remember you—that night.”

“I have that effect on people,” purred Bucky.

Pietro’s eyes were entrancing, half-lidded and staring intently. He tongue swept along his bottom lip. Bucky’s eyes followed it with precision. The corner of Pietro’s lips lifted suggestively, and he eyed the doorway. “It’s a little  _ loud _ .”

Bucky smirked. “Agreed.” He stood and announced to the table that he needed some fresh air and walked into the night. Leaning against the wall of the alleyway, Bucky waited. It wasn’t too long, maybe a minute or two before Pietro appeared. 

Bucky pressed him against the brick, their mouths already on each other. Almost frantically, Bucky shucked Pietro’s jacket off, lifting the smaller man off the ground. The Sokovian got the hint, wrapping his legs around Bucky’s hips. 

“Hope I’m not too heavy, Barnes. I do like a nice, strong man.” His tone made Bucky shiver.

“Nah, you’re as light as a feather.”

They pressed their lips together again, stopping only to catch their breath before diving back in.

Bucky vaguely registered whispering and giggling as pedestrians caught sight of them—two men making out in a dark alley. Did he really give a shit? No, and neither did Pietro. 

“What the heck?” 

Bucky’s eyes flew open.

Did the universe decide it was time to fuck him over?

He broke away from Pietro, setting the Sokovian down, meeting Steve’s blue eyes.

Fuck.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Bucky vaguely registered Pietro tugging gently at his shirt, trying to draw him back into a kiss. But Bucky could only gaze at Steve. “Where’s Sharon?” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say to your best friend who you haven’t spoken to for a week.

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “What does she have to do with… doing  _ that  _ in an alleyway with  _ him _ ?”

“What’s your problem, Steve?” Bucky fully turned his body, crossing his arms.

“Why are you in an alley with  _ him _ ?”

Pietro jumped into the conversation with a scowl. “Can you stop talking about me like that when I’m  _ literally  _ right here?”

“Oh, you’re literally here? That’s good—I thought you were here figuratively.” Pietro’s scowl deepened, but it didn’t hide the surprise on his face from Steve’s retort. Bucky, quite frankly, hadn’t seen Steve’s sharper side since the gym. 

He didn’t get a chance to fully appreciate just how  _ hot _ assertive Steve was. 

Pietro grumbled some Sokovian words under his breath, undoubtedly curses, but both Steve and Bucky ignored him. Steve repeated, “Why are you here with  _ him _ ?”

“Why can’t I be?”

“Really, Buck? You’ve called him ‘the devil incarnate’ before.”

“Seriously?” Pietro looked at Bucky, scowl slowly becoming a somewhat hurt frown. When Bucky didn’t deny the accusation, the Sokovian scoffed and said, “I’m going back inside.” With that, he shouldered past Steve with much more force than necessary and walked out of view. 

Bucky bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Why do you care about who I fuck?”

“Hypocritical, don’t you think, Bucky? You’re  _ always  _ telling me how much you  _ hate  _ Sharon.” Steve took a few steps forward, trapping Bucky up against the wall. This close, Bucky could hear the harsh way Steve was breathing. Could see the way Steve locked his jaw tight. Bucky watched Steve swallow, Adam’s apple bobbing.

_ Shit _ , Bucky thought to himself.  _ That’s pretty fucking hot _ . 

“First time you’ve ever shut your mouth.” Steve voice hurled him back into reality. 

“Whatever, Steve. I’ve given up on criticizing Sharon and your relationship, okay?”  _ Liar _ . 

Steve squinted at him. “Okay…” He looked Bucky up and down and asked, “But, why go after some guy you’ve hated since the beginning of college?”

Bucky shrugged and Steve let out a long breath through his nose. “I  _ guess _ it makes sense. You and Pietro.”

“How so?”

“You two are… I mean, you’re both very… you know…” Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know, I guess you’re both kind of… depraved?”

Bucky bristled and stood straighter, pushing himself off the wall. “What’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

“Look, Buck, I didn’t mean it like that—”

Bucky snorted derisively. “Sure, Steve. Sure. I get it. Maximoff and I are both pervy horndogs who want to fuck twenty-four-seven— _ especially _ compared to you and the Virgin Mary you’re dating.”

“Don’t talk about her like that!”   
  


Bucky’s fist clenched and he spat, “You tell me I can’t say anything negative about Sharon, but your allowed to shit on me and whoever I’m with? Bullshit, Steve. So don’t talk to me about hypocrisy, and get the fuck off your high horse, Rogers.”

Bucky walked around Steve and stomped down the street. He wasn’t in the mood to go back into that bar. Not with his frayed nerves and Stark’s digs. Steve yelled at him to come back so they could talk things out, but he didn’t give chase.

Bucky didn’t know why that stung.

*

Bucky’s aimless wandering brought him to a familiar, quieter part of town. He felt his shoulders relax just a tad as he walked down the street towards the music store on the corner. That was actually where he first met Pietro, since Wanda worked there.

“Barnes!” Wanda, decked out in a red leather jacket and a black dress, slid her headphones off. “Didn’t expect you here tonight.”

“Yeah, well… shit happens.” Bucky looked around. “Got anything new?”   
  


Wanda nodded and pointed to the back of the store. “New shipment came in a few days ago.”

“Thanks.” Bucky walked down the aisle and picked up the crate filled with new records, sitting down on an available footstool and flicking through the options. The records ranged from Creedence Clearwater Revival to Elton John to Madonna. He stopped at one and called to Wanda, “Didn’t know you knew ELO or Silver.”

Wanda shook her head. “I don’t personally, but a colleague of mine does and he placed the last order. Maybe you know him—Peter Quill?”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, we have a mutual friend.”

He stood, taking the Electric Light Orchestra record with him to the cash register. As Wanda rung him up, her phone buzzed. She handed Bucky and bag and the moment she read the message, she glared at Bucky. “Really?” she asked.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed. “Really what?”

“Did you really call my brother the devil incarnate?”

Bucky shifted his weight, staring down at his feet. “Yeah.” When he heard Wanda’s huff, he looked back up. “But it was a long time ago!”

“Doesn’t matter,” she said, lips pursing. “You really upset him.”

“How do you know? Didn’t he just text you?”   
  


“Twintuition,” she told him. “We just have this understanding.” She frowned at him. “I know I can’t tell you what to do, but I really recommend apologizing to him. Pietro can hold grudges for a surprisingly long amount of him.”

“Seriously?”

Wanda nodded. “Once when we were ten, I ate the last of his chocolate bar and he didn’t speak to me for two weeks.”

“That’s… kind of petty.”

“That’s Pietro. Just… if you want to keep seeing him, smooth things over right now.”

“I will. Thanks, Wanda.”   
  


As he went to leave, she said, “Oh, Barnes.”

“Yeah?”

“If you ever hurt my brother like this again, I’ll break your face.”

“Duly noted.”

“I’m glad we understand each other.”

When Bucky left the store, evening had bled into night. However, since it was a college town, everything was still open. He passed by cafes hosting slam poetry readings and arcades filled the brim with tipsy university students playing Pac-Man or pinball. He leaned against the outside of a diner, pulling out his phone. 

**Me: hey. can we talk?**

It was about five minutes before he got a response. 

**Pietro: im in the mood for ice cream but ur paying**

**Me: sounds great. meet me at the diner on seventeenth?**

**Pietro: omw**

It took Pietro about three minutes to get there. When he arrived, he was barely out of breath for running about fifteen blocks. He slid into the booth Bucky had gotten them. The waitress took their order—a banana fudge sundae.

“Look, Pietro, about the—”

Pietro waved him off. “No worries. I didn’t bother me.”

“Really? Because Wanda said—”

“She needs to stop sticking her nose in my business,” Pietro huffed. “Seriously, Barnes, I’m fine. Got a tough skin.”

“Pietro—”   
  


“Drop it, Barnes.”

The sundae came and they ate in silence, Pietro staring down at the tiled table and Bucky staring at Pietro. It was all to clear that the devil comment bothered the Sokovian as he took small spoonfuls of ice cream. He may have been a great runner, but Pietro Maximoff was an awful actor.

“Pietro.”   
  


“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I already told you that it doesn’t matter,” Pietro repeated, but he caught the small smile tugging at Pietro’s lips. 

“Did you know that Wanda couldn’t read time until she was twelve?”

Bucky snickered, and the tension in the air lifted.

*

“Thanks for the ice cream, Barnes,” Pietro said as they came to a stop in front of his dorm. 

Bucky nodded. “No problem.” There was a quick pause before he said, “I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah.” Pietro nodded back and Bucky began heading down the hall to the stairs when—

“Wait, Barnes?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“Hell yeah.”

*

Natasha scolded Bucky over the phone. “I can’t believe you ditched me to sleep with Maximoff. Again.”

“You’re acting like I planned it. Besides, you were occupied making googly-eyes at Banner.”

“When I see you, Bucky, I’m going to break your wrist.”

“Cool.” Bucky slung his gym bag over his shoulder. “I’m heading out now.”

Natasha sighed. “Yeah, me too. Get ready to workout with a broken wrist, Barnes.”

“I look forward to it.” He hesitated before saying, “Is it okay that I invited Pietro?”

There was a silence on the other side. “Nat, you still there?”

“I thought you two already worked out last night.”

“Fuck off.”   
  


“What about Steve?” Natasha asked.

“What about him?” 

“Did you seriously forget? We all go to the gym together on Fridays! You, me, Sam, and Steve.”

“I didn’t forget.” Bucky totally forgot. “It doesn’t matter. Steve always brings Sharon along with him, why can’t I bring Pietro?”

“God, you’re dense, Barnes.”   
  


“What?”

“Nevermind. See you in ten.”


	4. Chapter 4

Sam and Steve were already at the gym when Bucky arrived, Natasha following suit. As usual, Sharon was in her tight LuluLemon leggings and a dark blue sport bra. Bucky resisted the urge to roll his eyes, pointedly ignoring Steve when he asked the group, “Starting on the treadmills?”

Natasha shook her head and said, “Sam and I want to do some weight training first.”

“Yeah.” Sam flexed both his arms. “Gotta work on the gun show.”

Natasha squinted. “I don’t see it.”

“Nat, shut up.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at the two, wandering over to the treadmills. In the background, he heard Steve tell Sharon that he’d be on the treadmills too, while she would be doing stretching to lengthen muscles. Bucky scrambled to get his headphones on, already at a light jog. Steve stepped onto the machine beside him, pointedly staring at Bucky.

Bucky continued to pretend to listen to music, and Steve said, “Can we talk, Buck?”

“What? Sorry, can’t hear you.” Bucky tapped his headphones and gave a mocking shrug. Admittedly, in a twisted way, he liked having Steve stewing in his own shame. 

In the mirrors in front of the treadmills, Bucky saw Pietro walk through the door, clad in skintight workout clothes. He caught Bucky’s eye in the mirror and simpered, starting up the machine on Bucky’s other side. 

“Bet I could beat you to five miles,” Pietro said.

Bucky lowered his headphones and said, “You’re on. Loser buys smoothies.”

“Get ready to eat my dust, Barnes.”   
  


As Bucky stopped his machine, setting the goal to five miles, he heard Steve grumble, “Unbelievable.”

Pietro, never one to shy away from instigation, asked, “What’s wrong, Rogers?”

Steve gave the fakest polite smile Bucky ever saw. “Nothing, just thinking about last night’s episode.”

Pietro raised an eyebrow. “What show?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”   
  


“Try me.”

Steve sputtered, caught in the lie all too quickly. He simply grunted and looked away from the Sokovian. Pietro’s smirk grew bigger and he turned his attention back to Bucky. “Ready?”

“Born ready.”

*

“A Mango Sunset and a Banana Strawberry Bonanza, please.” The cashier nodded and rung up the items. 

“Oh, don’t look so miserable, Barnes,” Pietro said. “It was obvious you weren’t winning.”

Bucky just snorted as he and Pietro moved to the pick-up counter. Natasha, Sam, Steve, and Sharon ordered theirs right after, moving to stand next to Bucky. “You live up to your reputation, Maximoff,” Natasha said, leaning against the counter. 

Sam nodded. “Definitely. You left Barnes in the dust.”

Steve rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, remaining silent. Sharon kept poking at his arm, tilting her head questioningly. She looked from Bucky to Steve and back again. “Did something happen between you two?”

“No.” Steve’s jaw was clenched. “Nothing at all.”

Sharon sighed and shook her head, saying, “You two need to stop sweeping things under the rug.”

“Really, it’s nothing. Right, Buck?” Steve stared at Bucky, eyes smouldering. 

Bucky turned away, grabbing his and Pietro’s smoothies. The Sokovian’s fingers brushed against Bucky’s, the motion deliberate, almost coy. Everything with Pietro was an innuendo, it seemed. Every flirty touch, every suggestive smirk, every faux-timid upward look through the eyelashes—it was all calculated, meant to rile Bucky up.

Bucky snatched his hand away, hastily glancing at Steve, who had a sudden interest in his own sneakers. Sharon, again, said, “I  _ really  _ think you two should work—”

“We’re fine,” Steve insisted.

“No, you’re not! Haven’t you two been best friends since—?”

“Let it go, Sharon.”

“It’s unhealthy—!”

“It’s none of your business!” Steve blurted, eyes pinning Sharon to the spot she stood in. His chest rose and fell slowly as he breathed in and out. In and out. The veins popping from his neck receded. In and out. In and out. His fists unclenched.

Every patron in the smoothie shop had turned to the group, watching the drama that unfolded. After they all got their drinks, Sam ushered everyone outside, Natasha in step with a very startled and upset Sharon. Sam and Steve walked together at the head of the pack, speaking in low tones. Bucky and Pietro lagged at the back, silent. Bucky tried to listen to what Natasha was saying to Sharon, hearing only fragments on the soft conversation. “He’s frustrated. Give… space… time.” It was a rare moment to see Natasha mother-ing. She wasn’t very nurturing or warm—a product of how she was raised. It was almost felt like an out-of-body experience, witnessing Natasha rubbing the back of a clearly upset Sharon, who “was just trying to help!” (Bucky wanted to gag.)

About half a block ahead of them, Bucky gazed at Steve and Sam, who were bickering as quietly as possible. Sam waved his hands around, making wild hand gestures and scowling. Steve was frowning back, lips pursed and face tight. 

“Are you okay, Barnes?” asked Pietro, finally breaking the near-suffocating silence. 

“Yeah.” Bucky huffed, lowering his voice, “But Sharon needs to keep her giant nose out of my business.”

Pietro snickered and said, “I think she’s right.”

Bucky stopped walking. “What?”

Pietro, who had walked four steps ahead, turned around. “Barnes?” He wandered back.

“Seriously? You agree with her?”

“Whoa.” Pietro put his hands up. “Why’re you going on the defense, Barnes?”

“Because she needs to mind her own fucking business.”

“In all honesty, I think her boyfriend  _ is  _ her business,” Pietro retorted, sipping on the Banana Strawberry Bonanza. 

Bucky gritted his teeth, resuming his walk at a breakneck pace. Pietro rushed to catch up with him as Bucky passed Steve and Sam, who were still in a mostly one-sided (on Sam’s part) argument. Pietro fell into step beside him easily, eyebrows pinched together. “Why are you getting so mad?”

“Because—because—because this is between us! Me and Steve! Steve and me! I— _ we  _ don’t need you or Natasha or Sam or Sharon-fucking-Carter to meddle in our business!” Bucky ran a hand down his face. 

Pietro stayed quiet for a few beats before saying, “I care about you, Barnes. I… I just wanted to help you. I—I’m sorry.”

Bucky sighed, feeling the anger and energy drain from his body. He felt tired. He was tired. Tired on Sharon and her nosiness. Tired of Sam’s loud ass. Tired on Natasha’s knowing smiles whenever Steve was brought up. Tired of wrestling with feelings for his best friend, his  _ straight _ best friend. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m sorry too, for what it’s worth. I think I’m just…”  _ Tired. _

Pietro nodded. Bucky looked over his shoulders at the others, who were all seemingly none the wiser about his little outburst. Steve and Sam appeared to have calmed down, and Natasha and Sharon were more relaxed, chattering mindlessly. It was almost surreal, like seeing a flash of lightning—one quick, dramatic burst and then it was gone.

*

The air was getting drier and colder as November carried on. Nobody talked about the Smoothie Shop Incident, and quite frankly, everyone was too busy to address it. Midterms were coming up, two of Bucky’s landing on the Monday and Friday before Thanksgiving. He’d holed himself up in his room, cursing the two professors who placed their tests at the beginning and end of the week. 

Bucky phone buzzed from the couch where Bucky had flung it earlier after Tony began a debate on the group chat about whether or not mayonnaise was an acceptable condiment for french fries. He’d had midterms earlier in November, leaving him open to instigate meaningless arguments. The chat had become too distracting and made Bucky launch his phone onto a couch cushion. The never ending buzzing eventually stopped; this new buzz was the first in a while.

Bucky pushed himself out from his kitchen table and ambled over, cracking his back along the way. 

**Mom (6:33): You and Steve are still coming to Thanksgiving, right?**

Bucky’s brows furrowed as he punched out:  **Why?**

**Mom: Because Sarah told me you two got into a tiff.**

**Me: We’re fine.**

**Mom: James**

**Mom: You know you can talk to me.**

**Me: I know. I promise. We’re okay.**

**Me: And yeah, I’m at least coming to Thanksgiving. Can’t speak for Steve.**

**Mom: Ok. Love you!!!!**

**Me: Love you too <3**

Bucky shut the screen off and sighed, grabbing his laptop and flopping on the couch. Sick of reading the same paragraph over and over, he opened up to Amazon Prime and pressed to continue  _ Good Omens _ . 

In all honesty, he’d forgotten that the Barnes family and the Rogers family always did Thanksgiving together. It was a tradition from before they were born, when their mothers became friends. That meant that Bucky couldn’t get out of it, which meant having to face Steve, whom he hadn’t talked to for about two weeks. 

And Bucky knew for a fact that Steve’s midterms had been around the same time as Tony, meaning that he’d finished them and was just not calling or texting. Meaning that he was just avoiding Bucky. Thanksgiving would be undoubtedly tense, awkward, especially after the Smoothie Shop Incident. 

The show became static noise as Bucky’s stomach dropped. He wondered if Sharon would be at Thanksgiving. Now,  _ that  _ would be  _ really  _ awkward and  _ really  _ soul-crushing. If Steve brought Sharon, then that meant that their relationship was being taken to that elusive next level–meeting the family. Bucky was doomed if that happened, his fate sealed, destined to be the lovelorn best friend pining after his very not-single best friend.

Closing out the web browser, Bucky opened to his messages and clicked Steve’s contact. 

**Me: Hey. Are you bringing Sharon to Thanksgiving?** Delete.

**Me: Is Sharon coming to Thanksgiving?** Delete.

**Me: Do you think you should bring Sharon to Thanksgiving?** Delete.

**Me: You know what would really be totally cool and not weird at all, you bringing Sharon to Thanksgiving!**

Bucky groaned, smacking a palm to his forehead.

Delete.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ack! I know this chapter's kind of all over the place, so sorry about that. 
> 
> Also shoutout to [SeetheSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeetheSea/pseuds/SeetheSea) for telling me to watch _Good Omens_!


	5. Chapter 5

Pietro kept sending Bucky photos of Sokovia and him and Wanda, having gone back for the break. Natasha and Sam were doing a stay-cation, Natasha not wanting to go back to family and Sam’s flight being cancelled due to weather problems. Tony and Pepper were celebrating with her family, T’Challa was FaceTiming with his. 

And Bucky was stuck in an hour long car ride with Steve Rogers.

Steve’s shoulders were tense and his body scrunched towards the window, avoiding any and all contact with anything (or part) of Bucky. The radio played between them, the hosts talking about crises across the globe. Great. Depressing news for a depressing car ride.

“So…” When Steve piped up quietly, Bucky’s grip on the wheel tightened. “How were your midterms?”

Admittedly, he’d been a little preoccupied with the Smoothie Shop Incident and thinking about Steve, so he wasn’t sure how much information he actually retained and regurgitated onto paper. “Fine,” he replied with a small shrug.

Steve nodded in response, staring at the passing scenery as they drove through Brooklyn. Sev’s Pizzeria wasn’t on the corner, replaced with a Starbucks. Beside it, where the Russian restaurant run by Olga was, was now a gray-rugged, fluorescently lit CVS. Bucky stopped at the red light and frowned, taking in the neighborhood. Steve pointed to a TD Bank. “Wasn’t that—?”

“The barber shop, yeah.”

“We haven’t been gone  _ that  _ long.”

Bucky shrugged, turning the corner. “Times are changing.” His phone lit up in the cup holder, ringing. “Can you answer that?”

Steve pressed the ‘accept’ button. Lifting the phone to his ear, he waited for the voice on the other end to stop talking before saying, “Sorry, he’s not available right now… okay, bye.”

“Who was it?”   
  


Steve glanced at him and said, “Nat.”

“What did she want?” Bucky stopped again, waiting for joggers and elders to cross the street. He looked over at Steve, who avoided his eyes.

Steve paused and said, “She wanted to know if you’ve finished  _ NCIS _ ?”

“Oh.” Bucky pulled up to the curb and parked the car. They entered the building, and Bucky marvelled at all the details he hadn’t noticed. The faded color of the brick, peeling wallpaper in the lobby, the shaky way the elevator ascended. 

Steve seemed to notice it too as they got off the elevator, waiting outside the front door of Bucky’s childhood home. “It didn’t used to seem this rundown,” Steve commented.

  
“Yeah. I guess the rose-colored glasses are off.”

Steve huffed and reached for the bell before the door swung open, revealing a small, brunette woman with one hand on the doorknob and the other on her hip. “What are you two doing just standing out here?”

“Sorry, Mom,” Bucky laughed as his mother pulled him into a tight hug, grabbing Steve in the process. And suddenly, Bucky wasn’t laughing anymore, too distracted by the warmth Steve emitted. 

“How’d you even know we were out there?” Steve asked as the hug ended.

“Mother’s intuition,” she replied.

“Are those the boys?” Mrs. Rogers asked, walking down the short hall while wiping her hands on a dishtowel. She hugged Steve first and then Bucky, grinning brightly. Bucky smiled back. Steve had her smile. Actually, Steve had all of Mrs. Rogers’ features—blonde hair and soft blue eyes. 

“Becca! Get out here and hug your brother!” Mrs. Barnes yelled. Bucky snorted as his younger sister came trudging out of her room, a heavy Pre-Calc textbook in hand.

She offered him a lackluster side-hug and a distracted “Hi, Buck” before shuffling back to her room. Mrs. Barnes sighed and shook her head. “Girl’s been studying for midterms all week.” As she began to follow Mrs. Rogers back to the kitchen, she asked, “You boys done with your tests?”   
  


“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said, already headed for the kitchen. Bucky stood in the living room, gazing at the what his mother had up on the wall. There were pictures of him and Rebecca when they were kids, pictures of the whole family, medals and certificates they had won. And there were pictures of him and Steve, two from when they were kids and one from when they graduated high school, decked in their caps and gowns. They had their arms around each other and were beaming ear to ear. 

Bucky remembered that it was also the day he came out to Steve as bi. “Oh,” Steve had said. “That’s… that’s cool.”

“James Buchanan! Help set the table, please!”    
  


“Coming, Mom!”

Bucky entered the kitchen area, passing Rebecca room, which had a Do-Not-Disturb sign hanging from the doorknob. As he grabbed silverware, his mother shouted, “Rebecca! Dinner!”

Steve was setting plates down as Bucky walked into the dining room. Mrs. Rogers came rushing in with two bowls, one filled with mashed potatoes and the othered with stuffing. Mrs. Barnes arrived right on her heels, holding a very large, golden brown turkey, setting it down in the middle of the table. “Rebecca! Now!” 

“Coming,” came the muffled reply. 

“Smells great, Mrs. Barnes,” said Steve as he sat down, Bucky placing forks and knives at each place setting. 

Mrs. Barnes shook her head. “It was mostly your mother. And stop calling me Mrs. Barnes! We’ve known each other forever!”

Steve chuckled, “Sorry, Emily.”

“There you go!” She ruffled Steve’s hair as she moved to get the rest of the food. 

Mrs. Roger said, “You kids sit. We’ve got the rest.”

Bucky took his seat across from Steve, admiring the nearly overflowing table. Mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, vegetables, cranberry sauce, and the turkey were piled onto the tabletop, their smells melting into one another and filling the small apartment with a mouthwatering scent.

Mrs. Rogers sat beside Steve and Mrs. Barnes, after placing the cheese grits and biscuits down, sat at the head of the table. Rebecca plopped down beside Bucky. “How’s school been, Buck?”

“Good. Finished my midterms.”   
  


“Lucky,” she sighed, pouting. “My ass is getting kicked.”   
  


“Language,” gently reminded Mrs. Rogers, nudging Rebecca with her foot.

“Sorry, Sarah.”

“How’s Sharon?” asked Mrs. Barnes. Bucky nearly dropped the serving spoon in the potatoes as Steve’s face went pink. 

He nodded. “She’s good.”

“You should’ve brought her here so I could meet her,” continued Mrs. Barnes, thoughtfully chewing on biscuit. “I’ve heard so many great things from Sarah.”

“Oh, she’s a sweetheart,” said Mrs. Rogers. She turned to Bucky. “You’ve met her, right, Bucky?”

Through gritted teeth, he replied, “A few times.”

“Isn’t she a dear?”

“A gem,” Bucky said, shoving a piece of turkey into his mouth to avoid talking. 

Rebecca gave Bucky a subtle side-eye and leaned over, whispering, “Are you okay?”

“Fine, yeah. Sorry, just tired.” He gave her a tense smile. “Don’t worry.”

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed and she said, “You’re lying.”   
  


“I’m really not, Beck,” he said, swallowing the turkey piece. “I’m seriously fine.”

“Hey, Mom? Can Bucky and I be excused? I want to show him my history project.”

Mrs. Barnes squinted at her children, nodding slowly. “Okay… don’t be long.”

Rebecca dragged Bucky into her room and shut the door. “Spill it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She gave Bucky the same look their mother just gave them. “It’s about Steve’s girlfriend, right? Sharon?” Bucky stiffened and Rebecca snorted, “I-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about-Rebecca, my ass.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Bucky lifted his hands in surrender. “You’ve got me. I don’t like Sharon. But it’s not be—”

“It’s because you’ve got the hots for Steve, right?”

Bucky blinked at her. “What?”   
  
“You  _ like  _ like Steve.”

“How’d-how’d you know?”

Rebecca shrugged. “You checked him out a lot more than I think you thought you did. You weren’t very stealthy about it either.”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“I don’t know. I know you pretty well, but I don’t know if Mom’s picked up on it.”

Bucky flopped back on her bed. “Yeah, I guess I like Steve.”

Rebecca nodded and flopped beside him. “So… what are you going to do?”

“Nothing. He’s got Sharon, remember?”

“I guess.” She looked over at him. “Steve didn’t seem thrilled to be talking about her.”

Bucky didn’t answer, mulling over Rebecca’s words.  _ Steve didn’t seem thrilled to be talking about her _ .

*

The break was over far too fast, in Bucky’s opinion. As he and Natasha walked onto the quad, Wanda stepped in front of him, glaring. “You’re a jerk.”   
  


“Pardon me?”

“You.” Wanda’s glare sharpened. “You’re an absolute, genuine, one-hundred-percent jerk.”

Natasha looked between them. “Did something happen between you two?”

“No.” Bucky looked at Wanda. “What are you talking about?”

“Pietro. You never called him back.”

“What?” Bucky cocked his head. “He never called me.”

Wanda’s brow furrowed. “Yes, he did. He told Steve—”

“What?”

“He told Steve to tell you he called.”

Bucky scowled. “I never got the message.”

  
Wanda’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yes! Why would I lie?”

“Oh—”

“I’ve got to go. I’m—shit— _ fucking Steve— _ tell Pietro I’ll call him.  _ Holy fuck _ , I’m going to  _ murder Steve _ .” Bucky took off for Fury Hall, where Steve class was. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry about the short chapter. Just trying to get back into the swing of writing!


	6. Chapter 6

To say that Bucky was pissed was an understatement. 

“ _ Steve _ !” He burst inside the lecture hall, disregarding the dozens of other students and one professor watching in horror and interest. “ _ What the fuck _ !”

Steve had the  _ audacity  _ to blink at him. “Is something wrong?”   
  


“Is something—are you—yes! Yes, something is wrong! And I’m this close—” Bucky held his fingers a centimeter apart. “—To kicking your ass!”

“Excuse me, young man!” Professor What’s-Her-Name screeched. “You can’t just barge into this class and disrupt learning opportunities for other students!”

“Ma’am,” Steve said, standing up. “May I talk to him for a moment.”

Professor-What’s-Her-Name pinched the bridge of her nose. “Whatever gets him out of my classroom, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve speedwalked to Bucky, grabbing onto his arm and hauling him out of the class and into the hallway. Bucky shoved Steve’s hand away, skin burning from the touch. He pushed his hair from his eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

“Me?” Steve looked shocked. “ _ You’re  _ the one who just barged into a lesson!”

“You don’t get to decide whose messages I do and don’t get!” Bucky felt some sort of sick satisfaction wash over him when he saw Steve’s eyes widen a fraction.  _ Gotcha _ . “Yeah,” he continued. “I know about that. Did you really think I wouldn’t piece it together? I’m not stupid, Steve, no matter what you may thing.”   
  


“I don’t think you’re stupid.” Steve’s voice was quiet and Bucky scoffed, “That’s what you got from that?”

Steve ran a hand down his face. “Buck, I’m—”

“You’re sorry, Steve. You’re always sorry. You were sorry when you used to get into fights that I had to bail you out of. You were sorry when you kept cancelling plans for Sharon. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Bucky smacked the wall next to him, huffing. “You don’t have any right, Steve.”   
  


“You’re right, I didn’t.” Steve leaned against the wall, a little too collected for Bucky. “Can we talk about this later, Buck? I should get back inside.”

Bucky wanted to punch him. “Fine,” he bit out. “We’ll talk later.”

*

_ Later  _ felt like an eternity, Bucky found. He kept kicking himself for not making Steve clarifying when  _ later _ was. It would have saved him a lot of time phone-checking and sighing so much Natasha snapped, “Can you not?”

“Sorry.”

She closed her textbook, saying, “You know, you’re all over Twitter, right?”

“What?”

She showed him her Twitter timeline. “Someone took a video of your freakout and it’s kind of university-level viral.”

“Great.” Bucky slumped back in the chair, groaning. “This day could not get any worse.”

Natasha paused her Twitter scrolling, squinting at her screen. “I don’t want to burst your bubble, but—”

Bucky stared at the Tweet. Cold fear seeped into his bones and he suddenly couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t possible.

Natasha placed a hand on his arm, making him jump. “I won’t let him go anywhere near you.” 

Her words didn’t comfort him at all. Bucky wanted to throw up.

*

_ Later  _ meant six p.m. at Starbucks, according to Steve. They sat across from each other, and Bucky had no idea why he was the more jittery one when Steve had fucked up. 

Steve cleared his throat. “First of all, I’d like to apologize. I know it doesn’t… mean much, but I want to just put it out there. Second, I know it wasn’t my right, and I know I overstepped a boundary.”

Bucky’s leg bounced up and down. The door opened and a man walked in. Tall, tan, dark-haired. Bucky’s heart raced and his throat closed up. His eyes snapped up to the man’s face and he breathed out. It wasn’t him.

“—and I won’t do it again,” Steve finished. Bucky’s turned his head back to Steve, who was looking expectantly at him. 

“I… didn’t catch the end of that.”

Steve nodded. “I said I won’t do it again.”

Bucky nodded, but his head was swimming, his stomach turning. 

“You alright, Bucky? You look a little pale.” Steve pressed his knuckled to Bucky’s forehead. “You’re a little clammy.”

“I’m… I’m okay.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?” 

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” Bucky hesitated and Steve added: “I know I haven’t been the best to you recently, and that’s all on me. I’ll do whatever I can to regain your full trust. But, you know you can tell me what’s bothering you, no matter what.”

Bucky took a deep breath, voice trembling, “Steve.”

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve leaned closer, hand moving to hold Bucky’s. 

“ _ He’s _ here.”

“He?”

“ _ Him _ .”

Something dark crossed Steve’s face. “Are you serious?”

Bucky gulped and nodded, the Tweet flashing in his mind. 

**Brock [@brumlow] Dec. 2:** It’s good to be back.


End file.
